Tales from the School Room

This is the second week of the school year. I have met all my students and mostly, I've learned all their names. I have one set of identical twin boys that are still giving me fits in that department, but I am determined to figure out who is who before too much longer.

Other than that one small glitch, I am feeling as postitive about this school year as I have ever felt. I am having so much fun. This group of students seem open and eager and interesting and I am excited about the work that we will all do together this year.

That fact belies the awful stories that were circulated about this group of young people last year. Their 5th grade teachers battled with them all year last year. They struggled to maintain some sort of order in their classrooms. They were continually embroiled in various forms of bullying behavior. They found the parents to be difficult, unresponsive, and not supportive. Mostly, from my vantage point, they simply yelled and found fault with these children every single day, all day, for a whole year. This is a class of 52 children, all of them aged 11, who have already told me (after only six days) that they are "bad."

That is just heartbreaking. It is moreso because, so far I have not found them to be "bad" at all. I have had to intervene in a few behavior "mistakes." A few have chosen to talk while I'm talking. One has tried to get away with making trips to the boys' bathroom every class period. I had one young lady who told another child to "shut up!" There are the usual handful who are accustomed to taking their own sweet time, and are struggling with the expetation that they arrive in class on time. There is not one of those behaviors that is out of the ordinary, difficult to address, or indicative of a "bad" kid -- much less than a "bad" class.

I've been focused on being "civilized." They've heard me say it enough now that they are beginning to say to each other, "that wasn't very civilized." It causes me to smile when I hear them. They seem awfully cute and awfully susceptible to being cared for and respected.

I tend to do most of my grading over the weekend, and it is my habit to return graded papers on Monday. I put the work into kids' "mailboxes," and they retrieve it from there and then take the packets home to parents. The first time I do that is usually a little chaotic as it is a system that is markedly different from what students experience with other teachers. So, this week, as they were collecting their papers and looking them all over; as I was explaining how the grades are marked and what it all means; as they were reading through the first installment of my weekly parent memo -- one of the boys tracked me down so that he could talk to me one on one.

He brought me his stack of graded work (all of it neatly and correctly done), and stood beside me with his papers and a very serious face. He said, "Last year I had a lot of trouble and I wasn't very successful, and I just wanted to check and see if these papers really say what I think they say?"

"Well, J," I told him, "I don't know about last year, but if your plan is to be successful this year, it looks to me like you are off to a great start." His face lit up with a brilliant smile, he nodded, and strolled off to get back to work. I just wanted to hug him.

Then again, this morning, I was standing talking with a group while they were getting ready to go to physical education. One of them looked at me and with a deadly serious voice asked, "Do you like us, Ms. D?"

I looked at him and smiled and said, "Of course I like you! What teacher wouldn't love to have such a great group of charming and delightful students?"

They all gave me that sideways eye that tells me that they are wondering if I am giving them a line of bull, but then sort of straightened up and looked me in the eye. One of them said, "Last year we were bad, but this year we are way more mature."

I simply nodded and smiled and agreed with that assessment: "That must be it." They headed off to class with a notiecable bounce in their steps.

Just another day in paradise.

swan